Dazed n Confuzzled

Want to know what is extremely ouch-rageous? I mean, what is so incredibly painful I can only associate it to what I think drug free child birth would feel like. Want to know what that is? Taking a sip of a SCOLDING HOT latte – decaf skinny vanilla for the record. I’m still on that caffeine free kick – that’s what.

Ouch-rageous. Hmm. I like that word,  although it’ll always remind me of being doubled over in pain and tears screaming  Fire! Fire! Fire!

So, yeah, mental note to self: Don’t send K to Starbucks for an extra hot latte. He will come home with an extra hot latte, but one that is not exactly hot enough. You’ll be forced to throw it in the microwave, the microwave that you’ll accidentally set for two minutes instead of twenty seconds. Unfortunately, you won’t realize what you did until you torch your insides when you take a sip less than five seconds after reheating.  Ouch-rageous.

I conquered a fear this week! And what fear would that be, you might ask? My fear of running on treadmills of course!

Hooray! Woohoo!  WOW! What a huge life accomplishment Colleen! You should be so proud!

(Yes, that was sarcasm Sheldon.)

Anyways. I believe, I (might) have discussed my fear of running on treadmills here in the past.  In case I’m wrong, I had a fear of running on treadmills. You’re welcome.

So, yes, I had a fear of running on treadmills. I’ve always been cool with running outside, in the spring/summer/fall months of course, but the thought of moving faster than 4.5 on a treadmill always scared the hell out of me. I could stumble and fall or I could trip on my shoe laces or I could get a cramp and try to stop without hitting the emergency button, violently throwing myself across the room, knocking myself out cold. SO yeah, I’d rather walk, hands free, at a 15 incline than run. It’s just as intense as running! And oh wait, also just as scary!

Wait, what? Yeah, that’s right, just as scary. Walking at a 15 incline without holding onto the sidebars is just as scary as running,  there is an equal chance of stumbling and falling off, although, I wouldn’t be thrown across the room as violently as I would if I were to fall of while running.Still, scary.

So…why fear running then?!

Yo no say! I can’t explain it. It’s just one of those things.  Or was one of those things because on Monday of this week, ten minutes into my usual routine, I randomly lowered the incline and upped the speed and ran. I’ve run every day since. Totally, completely random.

(Now, I should confess that I did run once  a few months ago when I was able to get the treadmill in the far back corner of the gym where no one would notice but it never happened again because I was never able to score that hidden treadmill again. Also, that attempt doesn’t really count because I only lasted ten minutes, unlike my running attempts this week which lasted 50 of 60 minutes.)

So, just like that, I conquered my fear of running. No rhyme or reason. Weird but I’ll take it.

Maybe I’ll try to tackle my fear of sushi next…

13. That would be the number of mitten pairs I’ve lost this winter. I started the season with 20. (Yes, I do keep track of how many pairs I start out with and how many pairs I lose.) Compared to the number of pairs I lost last year, which was also 20, I’d say 13 isn’t all that bad. However, considering that for a majority of this winter I’ve been wearing my North Face jacket with matching gloves, hat and scarf, and only wearing mittens with my black or blue pea coat, 13 is high.

I do realize half I of what I just wrote was useless information. No, I will not apologize :p

So, yes, I’m notorious for losing mittens. Actually, I’m notorious for losing mittens and sunglasses. Mittens are far less expensive – I only buy the three packs at Target for $1.00 or less – than sunglasses, which is why I don’t feel all that bad when I lose a mitten or two and also why I’ve been banned from purchasing another pair of sunglasses unless they can be sewn directly on my head, eliminating the possibility of losing them (knowing me though, I’d still manage to lose them). I’m pretty positive that I’ll be blind from sun damage in a few years.

Anyways, I’m telling you this because I’ve always been baffled as to where these mittens end up and today I found the answer. Well, kinda. (I’m not as baffled as to where I leave my sunglasses. I know for a fact a majority of them have been left on the subway and the milk/sugar table at Starbucks) It appears that most of my lost mittens have made their way to the floor of the hallway closet behind the suitcase – the one area of this place that I’ll admit has never been cleaned or reorganized since we moved in four years ago, until today that is.

In total, I found 12 mittens.

Did you catch that last part? I said that I found 12 mittens. Single mittens, not pairs.

Of the 12 found, I was not able to put a single pair together. Not a single pair. I can’t begin to tell you how irritated I was by this. It was more irritating than the million times when, at the end of the clean laundry pile, I realized that I somehow ended up with three lonely mismatching socks.

WHERE DO THEY ALL GO?!?!

People, I’m twitching. And this time I mean it, I’m physically twitching. Most likely the result of caffeine withdrawal – Yes, I’m making yet another attempt at kicking the caffeine habit, although this attempt wasn’t planned or suggested, it just sort of happened. Apparently the best way for me to go about “kicking the habit” is to do the following:

• Wake up late every day, leaving no time for the usual Starbucks stop on the way to work.
• Meetings Meetings and more Meetings during the day, ruling out the possibility of leaving for a mid-day/lunch time Starbucks run.
• And finally, make plans with friends and editors every night of the week, eliminating the opportunity to play “yuppie” at my favorite downtown Starbucks after work/gym.

As for the red bulls, the key is to stay far away from Target on the weekends. That way, I can’t stock up for the week and seeing as I refuse to pay convenience store prices for this stuff, its a guarantee that I’ll stay red bull free – but more so, the true reason why I’m twitching is because there are power outages in my area.

Thanks to an INSANE wind/rain/snow storm last night, thousands are without power in Northern MA. Our block was somehow spared and we still have power but two blocks down? Powerless. Two blocks in the other direction? Powerless.

I do realize that we’re extremely lucky. We could have lost power or even worse, be in Haiti. Still, I’m twitching! We lost power for 5 days last winter and I’m still traumatized.

I can deal without heat, the internet and TV (yeah, that is a big fat lie) but I can’t stand walking into a pitch dark house. Even with a flash light, you still can’t see if some creepy big bad monster is waiting in the other room or if the random neighborhood cat that somehow finds a way to sneak into our place, uninvited time and time again is hiding in the corner.

I can’t believe I have yet to mention the neighborhood squatting cat. K and I have named him Houdini because on multiple occasions, this cat has managed to sneak his/her/its way into out place without us noticing. We have absolutely no idea how Houdini manages to get in but every once in a while, we’ll come home from work and find him/her/it hanging out on our couch. Its freaky! And I’m not kidding, I couldn’t make this up if I wanted to, this cat manages to find his/her/its way in and hangs out while we’re gone. He/she/it hasn’t caused any damage or left any “surprises” thank goodness, but still, I don’t like the idea of this random cat hanging out in my house. Actually, I really don’t like the fact that we have no clue how Houdini is getting in to begin with…

So, lets recap. We’ve covered by latest attempt to kick the caffeine habit, a potential power outage and Houdini the cat.

Not bad. Not Bad.

Look! McDonald’s is playing that fillet o fish commercial again. You know, this one:

Oh, I’m sorry. Is that song stuck in your head now? My bad. Sorry.

You know, there is something not quite right about sitting on the couch eating entire bags of Cheetos while watching the Olympics. Oh yes, yes I did say “bags” but save your gasping breath for something worthwhile, I meant those tiny snack sized bags, not the full family size. (Of course, if I keep going at the rate I’m currently going at then I may just surpass the family size.) I feel as if I should be sitting in front of a plate of carrots and I dunno…a protein shake maybe?

Alright, moving on. Lets talk curling shall we? Yes, curling! I’ve been watching religiously during these games and loving it. No really, I’m loving curling, though not for the reason your thinking, which is probably that I actually like the game. Well GUESS what?! You’re wrong. Wrong! wrong! wrong! I do not, I repeat, I do not like the game! That is right, I do not like the game of curling. Yet, I’m religiously watching them…sooo, whats that all aboot? Exactly that, ‘aboot’.

See, the real reason I can’t get enough of curling is because the female curling sportscaster (whose name is also Colleen) is the only sportscaster who I can clearly hear pronounce ‘about’ as ‘aboot’ and that? That TOTALLY CRACKS ME UP! And just like these Cheetos, I can’t get enough of it, which is driving K crazy because I keep rewinding every time she says it. Its hilarious people, absolutely hilarious!

My mother, my dear sweet mother, randomly called me last night specifically to ask me to tell her the first memory from my childhood that came to mind – good or bad.

I’m pretty sure you know where this is going, but I’m going to tell you anyways. You know, just in case you think this ended well.

Had it not been 10:30 at night – a Monday night – I would have thought twice before answering my mother’s question with a bad memory and instead, would have gone with one that…oh I don’t know, maybe one that wouldn’t make her cry. But it was 10:30 on a Monday night and I didn’t think twice before responding. I told her I remember how angry I was with her the day she made me take down all of my New Kids On The Block posters off my bedroom wall – and ceiling and door and the floor of my closet, yes, the closet floor – and how at the time I felt that she ruined the only good thing in my life and how I cursed her name for days because of it. Oh, yes I did. That? That was the definition of a very bad idea. A very bad idea. Oops?

I know, I’m an awful awful person and I’m so going to hell for this. A hell where I’ll be subjected to cheesy awful boy bands. Wait. I’m already subjected to cheesy awful boy bands….and I like them…which is the whole reason why I’m going to hell…well…one of MANY reason while I’ll be going to hell…

Anyways, in my defense, she did say good or bad!

Also in my defense…Ok. I don’t have a defense…

I should probably set a few reminders for Mother’s Day this year. Not that I’ve forgotten about Mother’s Day in the past or anything. No seriously, I’ve never forgotten Mother’s Day. I’m not that awful. Zip it you.

So, who’s watching Hoarders? K – formally known around here as The Husband, Barney The Big Purple Dino and a slew of other nicknames – and I started watching one night last week when we discovered a few episodes randomly hanging out on our Tivo. Neither one of us remembers setting this show to record but after watching the first episode, we don’t really care. We’re hooked. Although, I am a little concerned that I might be sleep walking (again) and setting random shows to record. Or maybe my tivo is trying to tell me something…something like “hey, if you’re not going to watch all these episodes of The Golden Girls, how about deleting an episode or two…or how about the whole series you seem to have stored on here because seriously, The Golden Girls?! Actually, why don’t you just go ahead and drop the Hallmark channel. You’re 31 you know, not 81.”

Anywho…

K, while not a hoarder, is most definitely a pack rat. He’ll hold onto every box and old toy if I let him. (Which I do because I’m a good wife like that. He just pays for the extra storage unit to keep it all in.) I, on the other hand, am the complete opposite and live by the rule “if I haven’t used it or thought about it in the last six months, out it goes.”

I do pretty well keeping to that rule…kinda…sorta. When it comes to things like boxes, nick knacks, useless misc items, etc, I’m good. But when it comes to file retention, that’s when I start to show symptoms of hoarding. I apparently have difficulty parting ways with old, useless documents, some (a majority) of which most likely never needed to be kept in the first place. I mean, really, what was I thinking when I filed that condo association newsletter from 2007? Did I really think that I was going to reference it three years later? And maintenance records for a car I traded in five, no wait, six years ago? Oh, and my boarding and baggage tag from my trip to Miami…the trip to Miami I took in 2003? How about those gas and grocery receipts? The gas and grocery receipts from 2000. 2000 as in ten years ago. Seriously, what is wrong with me? I mean, files? Really, Colleen, really?

Well, I don’t know what exactly is wrong with me, but I do know that I’m going to kick this habit to the dumpster and/or shredder starting now – a late new years resolution if you will.

Why now? I have my reasons. Three to be exact:

Sorry about that last one. I’m a little excited. Just a teeny tiny bit excited! Too excited to go into details now though so…that is all. Mount Pretty Filing Box is calling my name…begging to be climbed and shredded…wait…that didn’t sound right, did it?!?!?!

Ouch. So, either someone has been talking about me for the last six hours, or I’m going deaf in my left ear (and considering that I don’t have full hearing in that ear anyways it wouldn’t take much).

My left ear has been blocked and ringing since I was at the gym this afternoon. I really don’t know how it happened. All I know is that I was on the stairmaster (110 steps per minute thank you very much) when out of the blue, I felt a quick, sharp pain. Soon after that I realized I couldn’t hear a thing out of that ear except for this annoying, high pitched ringing. An annoying, high pitched ringing that has yet to stop.

Why it happened is beyond me. I wasn’t even listening to me iPod! I was just climbing those stairs, minding my own sweaty business. Bizarre.

So, anyways, can someone make it stop? Please, someone make it stop. I’m begging because Oh. My. Goodness Charlie. Brown. This. Is. ANNOYING. EXTREMELY ANNOYING. GIVE ME A BEER EVEN THOUGH I HATE BEER ANNOYING. GOING TO CRY SOON ANNOYING. DRIVING ME BATSHIT CRAZY ANNOYING.

PLEAASSEEE MAKE IT STOP!!!

OH, SORRY, AM I YELLING?

When one is coming off of a very bitchtastic, non-stop week and is on the very literal verge of an actual nervous breakdown because Oh, I don’t know…maybe because one is a little OVERWHELMED WITH LIFE*, one should not honor ones scheduled hair appointment. I repeat. One should NOT honor ones scheduled hair appointment. One should just suck it up and pay the cancellation fee because when one is on the very literal verge of an actual nervous breakdown and does honor ones hair appointment, one makes very bad decisions.

You’re with me right? Just say yes, please.

Bad decisions? Oh yes, bad decisions such as bangs and more defined layers. Oh, and a bunch off of the length, the length that I’ve been working on growing out for a very long time.

Thankfully Kate, my ever patient hair chickie, talked me out of taking too much off the length but the bangs and additional layers? Ugh.

Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Repeat a thousand more times please.

After sulking a bit I realize that it isn’t horrible…the bangs are “side swept” which is good because good old fashion in your face bangs? That would have been devastating. Still…bangs…ugh.

And the layers? Again, not horrible but it takes a lot of work to get them “just right.” And by just right, I mean even on both sides. You know the drill by now…Ugh.

Its hair, I’ll get over it. I have to get over it because like I said earlier, OVERWHELMED WITH LIFE. Have soo many other important things to concern myself with right now. I don’t have time to worry about loosing an eye due sharp, pointy, yet side swept (swepted?) bangs.

*Can you say DRAMA QUEEEN?!